


Silver Dust

by no_i



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst, Community: FFXV_Kinkmeme, Friendship, Gen, Isolation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Platonic Promptis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-20 14:02:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16557149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/no_i/pseuds/no_i
Summary: For Noctis, every day is the same.Wake. Eat. Train. Meditate. Eat. End day. Watched over by guards hand-picked by his father, the prince is prepared to make his sacrifice when the gods call for it, and the world is aware of this fact.Then a new guard arrives.Hoping to contribute to the fight against Niflheim in any way he can, eighteen-year-old Crownsguard upstart Prompto is assigned to guard the True King. Upon settling into his new routine, however, Prompto begins to question what good Noctis's isolation is doing. What begin as small breaches of protocol on Prompto's end develop into a genuine friendship, one that both he and Noctis are desperate to keep hidden.Prompto is well aware he's being watched by his own comrades. Gladio seems intent on keeping the prince on his path, and Ignis's concerns for Prompto seem to run deeper than first thought. Fighting against not just them, but the king and those who have stood beside his decisions since Noctis's birth, Prompto must decide how far he is willing to go if it means allowing the prince a chance to live happily.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> After tonight's announcement, this might be bad timing. For me, however, I gotta get this one out here so that it's known that no, I ain't stopping. There's a concrete plan for this, and it WILL happen.
> 
> Original prompt:
> 
> _In an AU where the war has gotten more brutal and the starscourge is developing faster than they all thought, Noctis is born and raised in a very unhealthy environment. The Gods are calling for his death much sooner than expected and everyone knows that he is meant to stop it but he will die in the process._
> 
>  
> 
> _This leads to Noctis growing up completely isolated in the Citadel for his protection. His daily life 24/7 is to eat, sleep, train his magic and weapons, and meditate by the Crystal to enhance his magic. He has no friends, barely anyone speaks to him except to remind him to stick to his schedule, and even his own father refuses to get close to him because Regis doesn't want to love a son who will soon be taken from him. The Crownsguard follow him around for his protection, including Ignis and Gladio but they're not there to be his friends, just to ensure that he's healthy and doing what he's meant to do._
> 
> _And then comes Prompto, the new Crownsguard recruit who wants to protect his city. He gets put on 'Noctis-watch' and he finds it heartbreakingly sad that Noctis is treated more like a machine than a person, especially since he's going to die so that all of them can live. Can't he have one good thing before he dies?_
> 
> _So Prompto takes it upon himself to befriend Noctis and treat him like he deserves to be treated, and he doesn't care who tries to stop him._

Year six, day one.

_"With us, Highness."_

At first, Noctis thinks it's training, just like the rest of his life, when he's led to his new room. The  _"We'll be returning tomorrow morning"_  doesn't sound like anything new. The boy still expects that he'll be allowed out soon enough, allowed to run around the Citadel on his own like he had always dreamed of doing.

_"You'll be living here from now on. It'll be just like before, just in a new room...All right?"_

The boy nods. The door shuts behind his guard, and he is left alone on a bed several sizes too large for him.

The room hasn't changed much over the years. One bed, a small desk, a shelf, the Cosmogony placed neatly atop said shelf. Most days, the shelf is just there to gather dust.

Most days, even years later, Noctis only wants to sleep through his spare time.

Year thirteen, day seven.

It's at the end of the first week after his thirteenth birthday that Noctis starts to make a note of the date. Days start when he wakes, and they end when his guards return him to his chambers. He keeps count from there. One turns into ten, ten to a few hundred.

His fourteenth birthday comes and goes without so much as a whisper from the Crownsguard.

Year fifteen, day thirty-seven.

Two young upstarts enter into the Crownsguard. Both come from notable families. Both of them have connections to his father.

Neither of them speak a word to him on most days.

He knows that one is his Shield. He knows the other is there for the sake of monitoring his health and nutrition, keeping tabs on Noctis's well-being in case something goes wrong, be it illness or internal sabotage aimed at the True King.

Their names are Gladiolus and Ignis, and they soon become yet another constant in Noctis's life.

Year nineteen, day two.

Gladiolus isn't there to lead Noctis out this time.

Instead, a new guard comes into the prince's chambers. He's about Noctis's age, though slightly shorter and boasting a more athletic build than he does. Despite what seems like careful styling, his blonde hair still looks a bit windswept and unkempt. He's dressed head to toe in black and dark browns, looking the part of  _guard_  even if he can't quite get the  _royal_  part down.

He's not like Ignis or Gladiolus, is he? There's a nagging feeling in Noctis's mind. He's not from the nobility. Far from it. He's a common man brought into the Crownsguard.

That lopsided smile on his face says enough about how far removed the new guard is from his element.

"Uh...Hey, good mor..."

Noctis's stare does enough to silence him. Part of Noctis wants to reply to the other man, if only to help ease him into the position.

He just doesn't see what point there would be to it.

Instead, Noctis only stretches, noting that his neck is  _killing_  him again. It'll wear off soon enough, he thinks. Just as soon as the day's training starts.

Then he looks back to the new guard.

Whoever this guard is, he's fidgeting a lot. He takes brief glances at Noctis before returning to playing with the edges of his thick leather gloves and rubbing his forearm. For a few minutes, the silence is palpable.

Then, the familiar smell of fresh eggs and meat begins to waft into the room, and the new guard looks up.

"I-Ignis!" the guard gasps, "That was just...!"

Ignis simply walks into the room and places a small plate and a set of silverware on Noctis's desk. He's keeping a close eye on the newbie, though there doesn't appear to be any animosity between the two yet. In fact, Ignis seems grateful for this new guard's presence.

"...Step outside, Prompto."  _Prompto._  Noctis would have had to memorize it sooner or later. As Prompto leaves the room, followed closely by Ignis (who gives a final stern look to the prince before he shuts the door), Noctis turns to his breakfast, catching their idle chatter out of earshot while he eats.

The walls are much thinner than anyone in the Citadel likes to admit.

Noctis is aware he isn't supposed to get to know his guards. Despite seeing their faces daily, Noctis does not consider his relationship with the Crownsguard "friendly." It's "necessary" at best. They barely speak to him, and they barely speak to each other around him.

To Noctis, this is fine.

He's known nothing else, after all. Despite awareness that there  _is_  an outside, he is content with what he has.

Even if it means that sometimes, eavesdropping is the only entertainment Noctis gets.

_"...However, you have a new duty as his guard now. Noctis is here as our True King. We are here not to accompany him as partners...Merely to protect him until his time has come."_

"Yep. I've got that, sir. This won't happen again, I swear."

The conversation drifts in and out of earshot, and Noctis eventually attempts to tune it out. He has a meal to finish, after all. A meal to finish, another day of training, meditation, sleep...

And then, yet another day will pass.

As it always does.

 


	2. Chapter 2

There's no turning back.

...Maybe there is, Prompto muses as he stands in front of the elevator he's supposed to be taking, but that would be desertion. Nobody wants to desert the guard, not when they're serving Lucian royalty. Gods, he can only imagine what the consequences would be.

He feels like a stray mutt wandering into a pack of fighting dogs, with each having years of battle in their blood compared to the scrap that just arrived. Even almost two years after earning his position, Prompto still feels like an outsider in a world of cold, embellished stone.

Then the elevator chimes, and the doors open, revealing the man Prompto had been waiting for. His gaze is sharp, his glasses even sharper, and he's clearly taken an immense effort to keep himself looking as clean as he does. His hair is slicked back, and any natural smell on him has been masked by a subtle cologne. When he walks forward, back straight and eyes locked on Prompto, he oozes practicality, to the point it’s downright intimidating.

There’s something else on him, though. Prompto can’t tell what, but there’s another smell coming off him amidst the cool, musky scent emanating from him. It’s enticing, Prompto wants to say, and surprisingly warm, clashing heavily with every other smell that’s filling his nostrils.

Prompto bows to the man, taking a moment to breathe during the single moment where he doesn't have to look his new comrade in the eye.

"Good morning. I take it you're Prompto Argentum?"

"Y-Yessir!" Prompto's voice already sounds winded as he speaks. "And you're...Ignis? Isn't there supposed to be someone else here?"

Ignis only nods before ushering Prompto forward into the elevator, a gesture that commands silence from him. It’s somewhere between  _we’ll talk in a moment_  and  _if you so much as breathe a word before we’re upstairs, His Majesty will have your head,_  and it only causes his muscles to further tighten and his pulse to quicken. At this point, Prompto swears his legs are going to break beneath his own weight, and that the only thing holding him up anymore is the fear of what his superior is going to do if his new comrade shows a hint of weakness.

Prompto loses focus on his surroundings for a solid few moments, and the only thing that shocks him back into reality is the slight shock as the elevator he’s in begins to move.  
Ignis is quick to break the silence.

“If you have any further questions, now is the time to ask,” he explains, catching Prompto’s attention once more. Right. Questions. Prompto has a lot of questions, to put it lightly, but he’s sure not many can be answered by Ignis alone. Most of what he’s asking himself has either been answered beforehand or can only really be answered during his first day on the new job.

“No, sir,” Prompto replies, “I should be fine out there.”

“Of course.” Ignis’s demeanor softens at this. Prompto swears there’s a hint of a smile on his face. “You’ll settle into the position quickly, I’m certain. His Majesty is counting on you, just as he is all of us. Take pride in this.”

Pride. As the elevator chimes once again, Prompto is reminded that he practically carries the world on his back. Ignis leads him out, with the lapse in his stiff professionalism a moment before suddenly seeming like it happened hours ago. The two exit without a word, heading down a massive corridor until they reach the first door they find with a card reader beside it.

For the first time that day, Prompto scans his ID and heads into what feels like an endless hall.

The hallways before Prompto are windowless and barren, built to seamlessly integrate with the building’s architecture despite any reinforcements built within. It’s so nondescript that he can barely tell which door he’s supposed to open, only knowing that the ID he’s been issued works with any of them, something not everyone in the building can say.

Before parting ways when they reach yet another door, Ignis simply tells him “The next door down, to your right.”

_(Scan card. Make sure he’s okay this time. Make sure he actually woke up. Usual duty. You’ve got this.)_

Prompto closes his eyes for a long few seconds as he opens the door to the prince’s chambers.

He’s greeted by a room just as nondescript as the halls outside it. There’s a bed, there’s a desk and chair, there’s a shelf with the Cosmogony resting upon it. In the back of the room, there’s a door to a small bathroom, one that’s been left wide open by the room’s single exhausted inhabitant.

The bed aside, most things are caked in dust.

And then, on the bed, is the prince.

He’s barely older than Prompto is (from what Prompto knows, he just turned nineteen), and his clothes are surprisingly casual for a man of his status. The prince doesn’t look entirely awake, either. He’s conscious, definitely, but he’s looking at his new guard with reddened eyes that he can barely keep open.

Prompto looks back with the expression of a deer in someone’s headlights. He can’t even get a full “good morning” out, his voice trailing off after the first word, when he locks eyes with the prince. The way everything is set up, “Noctis Lucis Caelum” seems more akin to a designation than a proper name. It’s a means of identifying the young man, and Prompto can’t help but feel it was done out of obligation instead of actual love.

Nobody wants to get attached to someone they know is soon to die. None of the Crownsguard have, clearly. Not even the king has.

Something sinks in Prompto’s stomach as he falls silent. This is where he’ll be stationed for...Who the hell knows how long he’ll be in this place? 

_No._  Prompto knows his job is an  _honor._  He’s guarding the  _True King._  He is one of many who stands to prepare Eos’s beacon of light for the inevitable sacrifice that must be made.

Noctis’s life for the world’s. It’s a truth that can’t be ignored. As Ignis said, he must take pride in his duty.

  
For a long moment, the two just stare each other down. Prompto finds himself turning to his forearm _(they don’t know what’s there and that’s fine, they don’t have to know)_ and running his fingertips along it, briefly stopping between motions once his hand crosses over his wrist. Dammit. First day, already backed himself into the awkward corner that is trying to interact with Noctis.

Then, footsteps. A smell that causes Prompto’s mind to drift back a few hours, a reminder that he’s running on empty this morning and dammit, that smells heavenly, what the hell is this prince being fed? When Ignis’s presence finally register’s in Prompto’s mind, he swears his heart catches in his throat.

“I-Ignis! That was just…!”

“Step outside, Prompto.”

Well,  _shit._  He’s already taken a huge misstep, hasn’t he? Prompto slinks out into the hall, glancing back at Noctis (or rather, his breakfast) while he does so.

_(Lucky bastard.)_

Ignis joins him shortly after, closing the door behind him. He doesn’t seem particularly upset, not even disappointed. It’s as if this is a normal thing.

“I-I’m sorry,” Prompto stammers, “I forgot - I didn’t realize I was -”

Ignis raises a finger to silence him.

“You’re not in any trouble.” This does little to calm Prompto’s nerves. “I have confidence in your abilities, and trust that you’re able to work with His Highness. However, you have a new duty as his guard now. Noctis is here as our True King. We are here not to accompany him as partners...Merely to protect him until his time has come."

"Yep. I've got that, sir. This won't happen again, I swear."

“You’re hardly the first to try,” Ignis assures, “And hardly the first to get such a response from him. I’m afraid that even attempting to connect with him will end just as it did moments ago.”

Prompto nods. He’s unsure how else to respond to that. Noctis really doesn’t know anything aside from his duties, does he? This is the prince’s entire damn life. Wake up, eat, train, sleep. It’d be miserable if he knew anything  _other_  than that monotony, Prompto tells himself.

He returns to Noctis’s room without a word, leaving Ignis to wait outside.

For the most part, the young prince has finished eating, save for a small pile of various veggies he’s picked out of his breakfast. Prompto had hardly noticed those when he took an earlier glance - Had Ignis had to hide those, as if he was feeding some kid? No, that couldn’t be right. He must have not seen those, given his earlier nerves.

It’s just a small pile of greens, carrots, and mushrooms, but the aroma coming off the tray is practically calling his name. Dammit. He’s trying not to eye what’s left, but his stomach clenches, and the stab of pain that comes with it is enough of a reminder to Prompto that he’s taking pretty shit care of himself.

“...Hey. You want these?”

The question catches Prompto off-guard. Not because of what it is, but because it’s the most normal thing he’s heard come out of Noctis’s mouth, far more normal than anything he’d expected to hear. Noctis is keeping his voice low, and when Prompto responds, he does the same, hoping that he doesn’t end up on the receiving end of a much more stern talking-to from his superior.

“I don’t...Am I allowed?” Prompto asks tentatively, knowing full well he’s going against his better judgement and, more importantly, against protocol, “You’re not...You’re seriously offering that?”

“Yeah.” Despite his stiff, unchanging expression, Prompto swears Noctis’s voice is laced with...Something. Mischief? No, that can’t be it. Is it? “You keep looking over here. If you want it, just take it.”

“I-If that’s okay...Thanks.” Prompto wastes no time in finishing off what little food is left. Protocol be damned, he’s  _starving,_  and despite it being just a pile of veggies, it’s damn good. Well-seasoned and not overcooked at all, Prompto can hardly see why Noctis would just let it go to waste. He takes a moment to savor the last forkful, realizing that his earlier thought was absolutely correct: When it comes to food, Noctis  _is_  a lucky bastard.

So maybe the prince is pretty okay, or at least observant enough to know when he can foist his vegetables off onto a guard. It doesn’t do much for Prompto, but it’s better than running on nothing at all. Placing the fork down, he grins and bows to Noctis.

“Lead the way, then, your Highn-”

Noctis immediately stands, stretches, picks up the tray, and heads towards the door. He doesn’t pay Prompto any heed save for an occasional glance to make sure that he’s there. Damn. One moment of any sort of interaction, and that’s all Noctis is willing to give.

Once he’s handed his tray and silverware off to Ignis, Noctis leads Prompto away. He works like clockwork from there; Prompto barely keeps up on their walk to a nearby training room despite how short a distance it is. When they arrive, the room is...Mostly empty. There’s a border a few feet from the wall that marks the training field, and there’s a man in the center who immediately catches Prompto’s attention.

Yep, that’s the other guy. The “someone else” who should have been with Ignis earlier.

If Ignis had been intimidating, this man, upon Prompto’s first look at him, is downright terrifying. Standing significantly taller than Ignis had, he’s well-muscled, with tattoos marking the entirety of his arms. Stubble lines his face, and though his eyes are closed, it’s clear he’s already aware of the prince’s presence.

And then there’s the sword he’s holding, which practically counts as a solid wall in and of itself. As the man takes a few practice swings, a sudden feeling of admiration surges through Prompto’s chest. This is what a Crownsguard should be capable of, he tells himself. Prepared for anything, able to cleave through entire armies. Every swing, every movement from this man exudes purpose.

Then, he stops, turning to Noctis. His sword flickers away, disappearing into blue light.

“You’re early. Go ahead and warm up while you’re here.”

Noctis only nods, heading to the middle of the training area to trade places with the guard.

Prompto’s breathing quickens once again. Shit. What’s he supposed to say to this guy? This behemoth of a man with years of battle under his belt is now standing right next to him, and he has no idea what to say to that.

“Uh...Hey? I-I’m new here, my name’s...”

Prompto finds himself trailing off as he looks his fellow guard in the eye.

“Prompto,” the other man finishes, “Iggy’s told me enough.”

Then, he bows. A brief moment of required formality.

“Gladiolus Amicitia, trainer and Shield to the True King.”

_Iggy._  The nickname is enough to ease Prompto’s nerves once more. The position may be important, but it hits him that relations amongst his comrades are far more casual than he first thought.

“Right!” Prompto quickly bows in response. “Nice meeting you, then. I’ll just, ah, I’ll...I’ll be standing back here. Don’t worry about me.”

Gladiolus shakes his head, turning back to Noctis.

“Just stay there and you’ll be fine,” he replies, “The prince is my responsibility for now.”

 

When Gladiolus returns to the center of the training field, Prompto is allowed a moment to  _breathe._  The drills are far from exciting, despite what he’d expected. Unlike watching Gladiolus move earlier, the movements between the two are repetitive, and eventually, it becomes a slog to watch. Minutes tick by. Then hours. Breaks are silent, given as moments to allow the two to hydrate, stretch, make sure they’re not pushing themselves too hard.

By the time it’s over, the clock has ticked from seven-thirty to noon, and Prompto’s feet are killing him from standing around.

“Right. That’ll do. Dismissed.”

Noctis returns to Prompto’s side after parting with his trainer, and though Prompto moves to leave the training area, Gladiolus is quick to stop him.

“Hey. Wait.”

Prompto turns back for a single moment.

“Let’s talk later, once we’re off for the night. You look like you need it.”

He doesn’t want to admit it, but Gladiolus is right - He needs people. Conversation. At least some sense of familiarity amongst his comrades. The awkward, brief interactions between him and everyone else are driving Prompto mad. As hard as it is to say out loud, Prompto appreciates the offer like nothing else.

“...Yeah,” Prompto says, “I’ll...I’ll see you then.”  
With that, the door shuts behind him, leaving Prompto with exactly two obligations in life at the moment.

From there, everything once again seems to speed up. Hours pass. He walks beside Noctis, saying nothing, watching as the young prince goes about his day. He’s given time to study up on Eos’s history. (He spends most of it napping.) They return to the training area later to hone Noctis’s magic, with Ignis sparring with Noctis instead of Gladiolus. Noctis is allowed an hour to himself in the afternoon, and he once again spends his spare moments napping. Prompto looks on enviously during that hour, until the clock strikes five and Ignis returns to the room.

“Wake up, Highness. It’s time.”

Noctis grumbles in protest before sitting up from his bed, with Prompto standing right by his side the entire time. Once again, the prince has been roused from what Prompto assumes is one of the most peaceful moments of his life. If nothing else, at least dreams aren’t the same monotonous routine Noctis has been stuck in for years.

When the three begin to leave, Ignis stops Prompto at the door.

“Stay here,” he quietly orders, “You’re to patrol the area until the prince returns.”

With that, Prompto waits, practically dead on his feet. Time slows, and he’s desperate to keep his mind from drifting off into some ridiculous fantasy. There are a lot of thoughts crossing his mind, however. He wonders how that dog that liked to stop by his old apartment is doing. If his parents are glad he’s gone yet. If he’s really missed at all by anyone. Prompto likes to think he’d be missed if he left the Crownsguard, if nothing else. With so little left for him outside the Citadel, he wouldn’t even consider it, but the thought that he would be missed at all...It’s comforting.

_(Focus, dammit.)_

But it’s so hard to focus when there’s nothing going on around him. With the prince and Ignis off somewhere else and little else to do but patrol the area and act as a sentry, Prompto can barely keep his eyes open any longer. Seconds pass. Minutes. Hours. Prompto swears he fell asleep somewhere in the middle of it all.

Then, Ignis returns with the prince.

Seven-thirty.

Noctis returns to his room, and Ignis gestures for Prompto to follow.

Whatever the prince was just put through, it’s left him ragged. Noctis is silent once again, instead turning to his bathroom and, keeping the door ajar, turns on the shower. Prompto assumes that it’s like this in case of an emergency, considering how tired Noctis looked upon returning. The door doesn’t even seem to lock.

It has to be hell, not even being allowed basic privacy.

  
Prompto quietly reminds himself once more that this is a necessity. Noctis’s life for the world’s. The blood price must be paid.

It doesn’t take the sour taste out of his mouth regarding how Noctis lives.

A few minutes later, Noctis emerges from the bathroom. He hardly looks “royal” anymore. His hair is still wet, not to mention an absolute mess, and he’s dressed down in little more than a long shirt and his boxers.

Prompto has to remind himself that this, too, is just the prince’s “normal.”

Ignis arrives not long after with a bowl of stew. The morning’s events seem to repeat, though this time, Noctis leaves no scraps behind. When he’s finished eating, Noctis simply crawls into bed, gesturing particularly aggressively for Prompto to leave.

Prompto abides, taking the dishes Noctis left behind with him. Handing them off to Ignis, he exhales deeply, already able to tell that his rounds are finally over.

Two words from Ignis provide Prompto with a relief that he hasn’t felt in months.

“You’re dismissed.”

 


End file.
